%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  You don't see it if you don't expect it, but you can see it from the corners of your eyes |
|
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** An SEP field is a generated energy field which affects perception. Entities within the field will be perceived by an outside observer as "Somebody Else's Problem", and will therefore be effectively invisible unless the observer is specifically looking for the entity. from Wikipedia Douglas Adams invented the SEP in the third part of the "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy". Watch me squint. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
|
| She made me think about my characters and me. For me, the big question is not whether I like or dislike my characters. I like writing about the sides that I'd dislike in real life. Connor and Frank are characters like that. I'd get along with them if I knew them only casually, but I'd never want them in my life. Actually, I know Frank very well. I think I like Tom and Niels best. If I ever met Niels, I'd linger around and try to find out more about him. And I'd try to gain his respect. The big question for me is how much of me is in the characters. I'm terrified to show up. I've got a pile of unfinished stories, I can't continue because I find so much of myself in them, and then I start hating them. In one way, writing can only be biographical. But I use this word in the broadest possible sense. Since all the words I write down stem from my thoughts and my thoughts can only stem from the experiences I made, my writing is of course is based on my life. That doesn't mean I write about myself. It's one of these cliches about writers you see in movies. The writer lives through something and then writes a book about it, hardly changing a line. There are books like that. Look at Patricia Cornwall or Linda Fairstein. Both created a character who worked in the same profession they did. Early on, I had a sneaking suspicion that Kay Scarpetta was an idealized version of Patricia Cornwall, the way she'd like to be seen by the world. She's so good, compassionate, intelligent, a leader. No bad mood ever clouds her judgment. I hate her. And I'm not sure I'd like Patricia Cornwall either. When I think of her, I roll my eyes. I read one novel by Linda Fairstein. On the inside of the back cover was the picture of a pretty blond lady, elegantly dressed in an expensive wool coat, two rings with precious stones on her fingers. The character (I forgot her name, I think it's Alexandra) had two policemen friends who called her blondie  , she dresses elegantly and gets a sapphire brooch for Christmas. And she, too, is too good to be true.There's so much vanity in this kind of writing. I mean it's one thing to create a character with no flaws, but base her on your own personality? {e:shudders} When I write, I go to places I've never been. I love ships, and I wish I could take a trip like Tom did, but I've never experienced the claustrophobic life on a ship where you've got to rely on whoever's with you. I think I'd be different from Tom. I'd pester everybody on board because I'd be curious about how everything works. They'd have to assign a babysitter for me to keep me from breaking valuable equipment. But I do understand Tom's loyalty conflict very well. Maybe, there's some me in that. Connor and Mina have both parts of me, too. The way, Mina delegates all the technical stuff to Connor is something I recognize very well. And Connor? Well, I'm not into programming, but I know his single-mindedness. I know that happens to me, too. If I set my mind on something, everything else suffers, including friendships. Still, I hope my characters are very different from me. I'm me 24/7. When I write, I'm taking some time off. |
| It's a famous urban legend about a young woman who offers an elderly woman a ride. She pushes her out of the car when she sees the back of the old woman's hand has hairs on its back. There's a bag left behind, in which there is a knife, a gun, or something. I bet you know it, too. And I'd like to know your specific version. There are subtle differences between the versions that make the story so much meatier. It's a very traditional story. The first version I saw was from 1834, and it's set in Silesia. Of course there's no car in that one, it's a horse carriage, and there's no sexual motive in it. The driver is a man, and the intended crime is robbery, but all the major elements are there. The offer of the ride, helping the old woman with her baggage, the hairy hand, the push, and the discovery of a weapon. It's surprising that it's still told as true. I heard it in the beginning of the nineties from a friend of my sister, and I still like that version best. There's not a single driver in that story, but a couple who left their car at a bus-stop to take a walk in a forest. The rest of the story doesn't differ from the others. It's context that makes this version special. In the east of Lower Saxony, there's an extended area of woodlands, a popular destination for week-enders and tourists. There's a health resort nearby, and often the guests will make the short drive into the Göhrde for a walk - or other activities. In 1989, two double murders occured in the Göhrde that are unsolved to this day. All four victims were married, but only two were married to each other. The second couple had met at the health resort. Another gruesome fact became known. The second couple was murdered at the day the bodies of the first victims were found, and police was roaming the woods for evidence. Little was found, and the murders are still a mystery. The story of the "Hairy Hand" was set against this backdrop, and it gave the story credibility and atmosphere. I'm aware that it's a legend. I think it happened this way: Somebody told the "Hairy Hand" as true, and when pressed to give information about where it happened, said, "in a forest". The information was sharpened into the Göhrde when the murders occurred. But what if it was true? What if the murderer did indeed dress as an old lady? I think it would make a good novella. I haven't been writing much lately, but I keep coming up with characters for this one, characters and mushrooms. |
| This week's horror newsletter reminded me of my very favorite conspiracy theory. Actually, it's not a conspiracy theory, it's a satire. It claims that one of Germany's major cities doesn't exist. I won't recount the whole theory, but I've found a summary in English. So if you are interested, here's the link: http://www.dw-world.de/dw/article/0,2144,1400913,00.html What I like so much about the theory is the town they've chosen. You couldn't do the same with Munich or Cologne, not even with Frankfurt, but Bielefeld is such a featureless entity, it's perfect. And it's true. You hardly ever meet anyone who claims to be from there, nobody ever goes there intentionally to visit. There are no sights, no places of historical significance. When you tell the history of Germany, you can safely leave out Bielefeld. (I might be hurting some Bielefeld patriots here, and the truth is I don't know very much about Bielefeld. But I won't apologize. I'll simply nod and say, oh, you are one of THEM.) I've always wondered. If this theory existed in another country, which city would have to be chosen. What would it be in the US. I keep thinking Pittsburgh. But that's the fault of Calvin and Hobbes. Once they had this wonderful conversation: Calvin: "Where do we go after death?" Hobbes: "Pittsburgh?" Calvin: "You mean hell?" Hobbes: "Call it whatever you want." Oh, and there was this girl in my class at school. She wanted to go to university in Bielefeld, and you know what? She never came back. |
| I've been planning to set this little game up for a while now. It's up. Have fun!
Looking forward to seeing you. |
| Ah, just a short one because I'm feeling so good. Yesterday, GabriellaR45  gifted me an awardicon for the folder in which I store the first two stories I ever wrote on WdC. Thank you so much.
Looks pretty, doesn't it? It made me reread the stories, and I decided to go back and do a bit of editing. Nothing too bold, just a few stray commas. To be brutally honest I was putting off the editing of "Sparks" and "A Friend in Need". I looked at my little overlong sea yarn, too. I vowed, I'd call it a novella as long as it was over 10000 words. I had cut and cut, and it was starting to hurt.. When I stopped last time I was still 410 words over the limit, and I couldn't imagine to find another word I would part with. To my astonishment, I found whole sentences I could leave out safely. And that's what I've been doing today. The current word count is 9915 words, official WdC standard. It's a short story now. See?
It means I've cut a total of about 2000 words. And you know what? I think the story's better now. So, I've got no excuse anymore to put of the two Gauntlet stories. But then I'm creative. I'll come up with something. |
| Do you like drama, tragedy, a roller-coaster of emotions, unsuspected twists? This might be the entry to read for you. Are you bored with computer problems? Stop reading now because this is the ongoing story of trying to keep my little box alive. I should say that I'm a technical illiterate. The only times I could repair something successfully is when all the device needs is a good kick. Like my washing-machine. But a computer is beyond me. All I ever wanted was a tool to use for - oh well, you know - writing, surfing the net, easy stuff. I soon found out I got a pet instead that needed to be fed (updated), vaccinated against viruses; there were occasional visits to the vet (any guy who claimed to know more than I did). And it needed a lot of patience. More than my washing-machine that is. I played along, and soon enough this selfish, eccentric, un-furry animal ruled my life. That was the easy stuff. The drama started about six weeks ago. I'll spare you all the early symptoms. The first dramatic peak came when I entered my review of a novel chapter into the "Invalid Item"  . I pressed the send button, saw that it was successful before I got an error message and the computer shut down. And wouldn't be restarted. Diagnosis by my local vet (boy-friend): The hard disk has failed. So we shopped for a new one. After some deliberation, we, that is he, decided, I'd get a Samsung with 160 GB, three times as much as I'd had before, and about five times more than I'd ever used. It was a time of learning for me. After the week it took to find that bloody thing, I was fluent in hard disk lingo. I know all the producers worldwide (admittedly there are only four), their history (if you ever want to know why IBM sold their production to Hitachi, just ask), their shortcomings, the prices. It seems the star of the scene is Stargate. They give a warranty for five years, are ahead with the technology, and charge twice as much as Samsung does. But since we were assured that Samsung was by no means low quality and the Stargate we'd had our eyes on wasn't available on short notice, it was the Samsung. It was my boy-friend, let's call him Gassee (it fits him), who got it for me and saved me an hour long trip to the distributor. We reinstalled Windows, the data had been saved, and I was in time to begin writing the entry for the last round of the Gauntlet. It seemed, all was okay, and my secret fears had been allayed. What if it wasn't the hard disk, but the main board? One week later, my fears were back. Strange things started to happen, I think my music gave the first clue. In the fashion of true Windows experts, we blamed Windows first. There had been a lot of updates recently because my system had been on for two years, and maybe things interfered, don't they always? Just typical. Actually, we blamed about everything except the moon cycle before, again on a Friday, my little box said good-bye again. And I had still about 1000 words to write. It was a perfect illustration of Murphy's laws. It's not only that everything that can break will break, it will break when it matters most. The next day saw us in Spandau, a district at the very outskirts of Berlin, to exchange the hard disk. It seemed it was electronically dead. But my fears were there again. How could it be that a new disk failed? I had deep suspicions about the mainboard, especially since I understood by then the idea of an UDMA-controller, and I did have trouble with UDMA with the first hard disk. So I watched with considerable tension the testing of the Samsung. It rattled, and that was enough for the guy behind the counter. He took it back, no questions asked. "Why's that?" I asked. "It happens." He shrugged. "It's highly unlikely that the next one will fail, too. So get happy with it." "Or we'll see you in two weeks," I joked. It became the running gag of the day. We made it again when we discovered a stand that sold "Backfisch", a northern German specialty, dipped into a rich dough and fried before our eyes, sold at an incredibly low price. "When we take that hard disk back again, we'll get some more." And I was happy again. I'd been incredibly lucky. It was only the hard disk, again! A new computer would set me back more bucks than I have right now, especially with Christmas looming up. It seemed too good to be true. And so it was. Gassee put the new hard disk in, and it didn't show. The BIOS didn't recognize it. And I had four hours until the deadline for the Gauntlet. Gassee showed his strength in a crisis. He knows exactly what to do when I'm about to throw a fit. He sent me out to a cafe with wireless lan, lent me his notebook, and told me he'd fix it. I did meet the deadline. I wrote in a frenzy and plugged "A Friend in Need" before the sever went down, or an earthquake occurred. I was spent.But Gassee had to admit defeat. The new hard disk was as dead as it's always been. Time for the vet specialist. We met Lancelot (well, he is a hero) the next day, and he was reassuringly calm. He took my notebook into intensive care, and tried to breathe new life into it. Good news first. The second Samsung hard disk was dead. Bad news next. That wasn't the only problem. Lancelot brought the notebook back yesterday, holding a tiny little thing in hand, the interface between main board and hard disk. It hadn't been soldered properly, and well, forget my warranty. But Gassee is ingenious as ever. I'd live on with my notebook and an external hard disk; the only thingy I'd have to buy would be a small case for the third Samsung we'd get immediately. Okay, just get over with it I thought. Yesterday, exactly two weeks later we undertook the trip to Spandau again. I was looking forward rather to the "Backfisch" than to the bloody Samsung hard disk, but luck is elusive and strange. They'd run out of the product we wanted. Another trip? No. Get me something. Anything. Just let me work again. I'd always been above the drama of losing data. It was all saved. But I couldn't feel the keys under my fingers, couldn't browse through my folders for story ideas, could only get on WdC at my work place. That's quite okay for reviewing and sending mails, but not for writing. We got something. An external hard disk. And fish on the way back. At home, it seemed luck had turned. There was a Seagate inside, the brand we had yearned after for four weeks, but that had always been unavailable, and for some reason for the price of the infamous Samsung. Computer wouldn't be computers if they didn't give you trouble. I tried to reinstall Windows three times and failed. I think it doesn't like booting from a USB-hard disk. Gassee thinks it's the mainboard. I'm now on a Linux system, something I've never had before. But it boots. The first thing it did when it got online was to update the software and afterwards cut the connection to the net. And I hadn't even read my mails, yet. I left things to Gassee, and he changed some settings, so I can work. Is it over? Wish me luck, guys. I don't have the stamina for it. The fish stand won't be back until January. I'm taking that as a good sign. I guess I can tell you more in two weeks. |
I had a very happy WdC weekend with a lot to be thankful for. Stargopher of "WYRM" sent me a spectactular review for "Sparks" as part of the prize I won in the Gauntlet. It's the review I've been waiting for, the one that makes me sit down and work on the story again. Awesome!  Then I read two wonderful stories by the divine kiyasama, and she not only had me spend a very good time with her writings, she gave me a merit badge on top of it.  Thank you so much!Now I see you wondering about the damnation part, and it's actually just a coincidence. I said I'd like to pursue a career as a practical maledictologist in my last entry (I sound like a pro, don't I, and it's only entry #4, I'm just so  ). Of course, it's a profession that doesn't exist. There is a branch in linguistics that compares insulting and swearing cultures in different languages, and I've always found that fascinating. Imagine there's a way you can deal with swear words all day, and it's all for the benefit of enlightenment and education!Then I consider insults as an achievement of civilization that is strangely undervalued. I keep thinking that a good insulting match is a lot more entertaining then a fight, and it's a lot more civilized, too. It does avoid violence. Well, today I had a little practice in academic maledictology. For some reason, Zinedine Zidane's reaction to Materazzi's insult in the World Championship's final became the starting point of a discussion in class today. It was really interesting to see the different evaluations of the situation. Some said, if it had been them, Materazzi wouldn't be alive; others claimed that as professionals they'd have to live with the provocation. (Not as private persons, though. "He should have waited until after the match.") One of my students told us he had witnessed two Germans shouting abuse at each other, but it stunned him to see that nobody started fighting. He ducked several times during the story. I should add that I hardly ever swear myself, except when I'm extremely frustrated, or in pain. Saying "fuck"three times when you hit your elbow is a perfect pain killer, and it's cheap. And it gives you courage, too, when you are afraid. And it provides the best descriptive terms for annoying people, or? |
That's one of the best personality quesoinaires I've seen. Lynn McKenzie and Satuawany  have both done it, and I just loved their answers.I give you money and send you into the grocery store to pick up 5 items. You can only pick one thing from the following departments.. what is it? 1. Produce: tomatoes 2. Bakery: fresh bread 3. Meat: mincemeat 4. Frozen: fish 5. Dry goods: spaghetti Let's say we're heading out for a weekend getaway. You're only allowed to bring 3 articles of clothing with you. So, what's in your bag? I'm not going to mention that I'm going to wear clothes while traveling. Just remind me not to forget that sweater, right? 1. three non-matching socks 2. underwear 3. oh, and here's my lovely black hat! Sorry, can I borrow your sweater? If I was to listen in on one of your conversations throughout the day, what 5 phrases or words would I be most likely to hear? 1. "Any questions?" 2. "The verb is always in the second place. Where's the verb?" 3. "Tschüs!" (It's funny, it's evnough to say hello to a class once, and everybody is happy. But everybody says bye indvidually, so I end up saying it approximately 50 times a day.) 4. "Uh, it's that late already?" 5. "Stop sqeezing my nose, please, not while I'm eating!" So, what 3 things do you find yourself doing every single day, and if you didn't get to do, you probably wouldn't be in the best mood? 1. Go on Writing.Com. 2. Drink coffee, lots. 3. Have a think on my own. Sweet, you just scored a whole afternoon to yourself. We're talking a 3 hour block with nobody around. What 5 activities might we find you doing? 1. writing 2. reading 3. going on WdC 4. listening to classical music 5. singing along (I've got to be alone for that, you wouldn't want to listen in) We're going to the zoo. But, it looks like it could start storming, so it'll have to be a quick visit. What 3 exhibits do we have to get to? 1. orang-utans (In Berlin, there's this old one I love. He sits behind this glass screen, and you can't be sure who is entertaining who...) 2. reptiles 3. owls (Aren't they just funny when they turn teir necks?) You just scored tickets to the taping of any show that comes on t.v. of your choice. You can pick between 4, so what are you deciding between? Err, I don't have a TV, so what are my choices? You're hungry for ice cream. I'll give you a triple dipper ice cream cone. What 3 flavors can I pile on for ya? 1. cherry 2. yogurt 3. That's a hard one, I usually only have the two above. Maybe lemon? No, either too sour or obnoxiously sweet. Raspberry? That'd take something out of the cherry. Pistachio? Does it go well with yoghurt? Or lemon... Somebody stole your purse/wallet…in order to get it back, you have to name 5 things you know are inside to claim it. So, what's in there? This is not funny, my wallet was stolen yesterday. (And I can name as much stuff as I want I won't get it back!) 1. ID card 2. monthy subway ticket 3. credit card 4. bills from shopping 5. some with phone numbers on the back side, usually without a name You are at a job fair, and asked what areas you are interested in pursuing a career in. Let's pretend you have every talent and ability to be whatever you wanted, so what 4 careers would be fun for you? 1. practical maledictologist (you don't have an opening, you bastard?) 2. writer (surprise) 3. mathematician (they are even crazier than writers) 4. clarinetist (what do you mean, I need to know how to play?) If you could go back and talk to the old you, when you were in high school, and inform yourself of 4 things, what would you say? 1. One day, you'll finish a story. 2. The coolest people on earth are nerds. Everybody knows it, except school kids. 3. You can't make a microwave work with the door open. Just believe me, all right? 4. You will need your high school diploma once, nobody will ever want to see it again. |
| When "Invalid Item" was over I decided I needed a little break from creativity. It was an astonishing contest, challenging and captivating, and I was proud to have written 12000 words within four weeks. The 12000 words I had written before had taken ten months, so there is definitely some progress. Now, I'm getting a little itchy. I feel I shouldn't rest that long; I should be getting my hands inky again. Of course, I didn't immediately have a sparkling new idea. My ideas show up when I need them least. I note them somewhere, and later I look if I could do something with it. There's one story in my folder I started over a year ago. It's about a bunch of elderly people in a rest-home. I've written an introductory scene, and that's it. I can't seem to get the action going though I do have an idea where it's supposed to lead. Then there's this very old idea to write about a person who decides to stop speaking. It was inspired by a Stephen King story, that is by the title, That Feeling, You Can Only Tell What It Is in French. I was completely disappointed to find out that it was only about déja-vu (that's not a spoiler, it's on the first page). I thought it was about something else entirely, something to do with language, and felt somebody should write a story about my idea. It occurred to me that it needn't necessarily be somebody else. It was years before I found WdC, but I believe this story nudged me onto the site. And it's still not written. Yesterday, kiyasama reviewed "A Friend in Need" . The review was fantastic and ended with the dare to write something more graphic. It reminded me of other challenges that I wanted to take, so here's a list: Write something with truly graphic content. Make 'em drool! Write a romance story, and don't seal it with a kiss. Write a story from objective point of view. If Hemingway and Capote can do it, so can I. (Stands to reason, doesn't it?  ) Write a story about a liar. (Two more heroes: Graham Greene and John LeCarré) Write a psychological crime story with a classic motive, like greed, or keeping a secret. It's something I'd love to read because I'm fed up with all that sexual child abuse. (I wonder if there're statistical figures about it. It seems that about four out of five fictitious criminals have suffered sexual abuse in their childhood. I don't care whether or not it's realistic; it's boring to read it again and again, and I mourn all these Agatha Christie murderers who do it for the money and wouldn't be hip enough today without having been molested.)Maybe, too many starting points are as bad as to few. Maybe, I simply need to mull it over some more. Or muse. |
| I've been reading blogs for a while and with growing pleasure. I guess it was only a matter of time until I would start my own. It's like your neighbor's new car. All of a sudden, you find you need one, too. I've never even kept a journal - for longer than a week. Lately, I found myself composing long articles on issues I've read about in other blogs. If I had a blog, I thought, I could post them there. But (she sighed, raising her arms in resignation) I hadn't. So all these important, original, great thoughts remain unshared. (Do I have to add a ? )The inspiration for the title came yesterday when I listened to the conversation of two colleages. "Do you remember Ahmad, the Syrian teacher, twenty years ago?" "Ah, yes, he always ate an egg during the break." I just loved it. The story that was told about this teacher was rather pointless, but there he was, a Syrian with a blue jacket peeling an egg between the lessons. It's great if you can look squarely at something and get to the point immediately. But I like looking at the blurry edges. There are more surprises. So, the first rate is paid off. I'm going to have a bigger car than all the neighbors, and can finally look over the fence with pride |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
